A Walk in Darkness
by Danae3
Summary: Legolas and Gimli rescue a woman and travel with her to Gondor. As they travel, Legolas begins to develop feelings for her, only to find out she is not quite who she appears to be. Not a romance!
1. Chapter 1

AN:  While this story is finished, and has been for some time, I am currently revising it.  The story itself will not change, nor will too much extra stuff be added.  I'm just polishing so it's not quite so one-dimensional.  However, I'm not trying to scare you off.  Please read on and tell me what you think of the story itself.  

Donas rode wearily on his horse, slightly apart from the small party behind him.  They were still many days from Gondor.  He glanced back at the figure who rode in the center of the group, constantly surrounded by Donas' men.  He was a strange figure, covered always by a black cloak, including his hands.  None of his men had seen any pink of his skin or heard his voice.  Mysterious indeed.

            Many of his men had been curious early on, and one had tried to peek under the hood while the figure slept in camp.  He had crept carefully over, with everyone looking on, and reached down to move the hood, only to be gripped hard on the wrist by the stranger.  Donas was amazed at the speed by which the hand had shot out, and in a flash, a short silver blade was in the other hand at the man's throat.  No one else had tried since that night to see the stranger.  They wisely left him alone, not even attempting to engage him in conversation.  He was no more than a ghost in their party.

            But their orders were simple enough from the Lady Nalaya.  Escort the man to Minas Tirith, and return thereafter.  Donas figured he was the victim of some affliction, going to see the king who could heal.

            Donas was roused from his thoughts by the shouts of the two scouts he had sent ahead.  They were speeding toward him.  He dug his heels into his own horse and rode out to meet them.  Too late, he saw that his scouts were pursued.  He drew his sword and signaled for his men to do the same, but the glint of the stranger's blade brought him to his senses.

            He had barely twenty men with him, and twice that many were quickly closing the distance between them to match steel.  He could not risk his men when he still had a mission to fulfill.  Donas knew the Fangorn Forest lay no more than six miles to the west.  If they could reach it, they could escape their pursuers.  The captain shouted for his men to retreat and turned to follow.

            They pushed their mounts hard, quickly covering the distance to safety, but their horses, already tired by heavy travel, were no match for the fresh horses of the rabble that followed.  Donas' own horse stumbled, throwing him to the ground. They were soon overtaken.

            "Felnor!  Gahren!  Get the stranger to safety!"  he called out, fending off blows from the mounted attackers.  The rest of his men stayed to help buy some time for those three.  They tried to hold the attackers off, but sorely outnumbered, a small band broke off and rode after the stranger and his smaller escort.

            They were making a large dent in their enemy, but his own force had already been cut in half.

  Donas absorbed a blow with his shield and separated the head of his assailant from his body before checking the progress of Felnor, Gahren, and the stranger.  Their pursuers had bows and had already felled Gahren.  The others were just disappearing behind a hill.

¤¤¤¤

"So Master elf, have ye ridded yourself of ye fancy for the trees that we can go home now?"  Gimli toddled along over the overgrown paths of Fangorn, keeping pace with the long legs of his companion as they guided their horses along the uneven ground.

            "It is no fancy," came the answer from directly before him.  "The trees are as alive as you or I.  Their songs are the wind."

            "Yeah, well, they haven't been all that friendly since we came here.  You may speak to the trees and listen to their songs, but I am dodging their branches and trying not to be swiped.  A forest is no place for a dwarf."

            "It is not the dwarf they mind, but the axe in the dwarf's belt."

            "If they mind the axe, they mind the dwarf," Gimli huffed, drawing a smile from his fair companion.  "Where are we going to, anyway?  I think you've talked to every Ent in the forest that you could.  We should be heading off to see the Halflings, or even-."  His speech was halted by Legolas' upraised hand.  

The elf stood very still, listening intently to the sounds of the forest so far off, Gimli could not hear them.  His head turned suddenly to the east, his deep brown eyes flashing.

            "There's trouble beyond those trees," he said, pointing toward a thick wall of ancient trees.

            Gimli followed the direction he had indicated and saw nothing but branches waiting to swat him and vines in hiding to trip him his legs.

            "Are you sure, Legolas?  There is no one in this forest but ourselves."

            "I can hear them as if they were right before us."  He was mounting his horse as he spoke.  "Several horses pursuing one.  A horse was felled and I heard the cry of pain.  Come, Gimli!  That rider needs our help!"

            As Gimli scrambled up onto his own horse, Legolas leaned down and spoke to his steed, which turned and sped toward the tight knit trees.  The elf spoke aloud now, in a language Gimli could not understand, and the branches pulled from the path, allowing the riders to pass safely and quickly.

            The companions rode hard, the dwarf staying close behind so he would not become lost in the labyrinth of foliage.  The way was clear ahead, but a glance over his shoulder revealed that the paths were closed again after they passed.

            'At least I'll get to bloody my axe,' he thought to himself, 'rather than tromping through woods and talking to trees.'

            Before long, even Gimli could hear the sounds of the far off battle, but as they cleared the forest and rode into the open countryside, they found evidence of how near they had been.  A single man lay dead, pierced by three arrows, a hundred yards from the forest.  A dead horse was half that distance from the trees.  The second horse lay near the man.  

            Legolas rode out to the nearer horse.  A black cloak lay partly under the animal.  The elf pulled it out and held it up.

            "Ringwraiths?" asked Gimli.  "But the ring was destroyed."

            "It is not from a Ringwraith," Legolas answered.  "They are no more.  But there must have been a second rider who wore this and was taken."  His eyes scanned the land around him.  Whoever abducted the second rider was gone.  The elf lowered his eyes to the ground, which was still soft from the showers the night before.  A deep indentation marked where the rider had fallen, half beneath the horse.  The elf's keen eyes discerned where his body had been dragged out from underneath the animal's carcass.  He told as much to the dwarf.  "The rider was still alive."

            "Maybe his companions saved him," Gimli said.

            "No.  I believe some evil is coming to the rider.  They took him north.  You can see their tracks."

            "I can't see anything.  But this seems like a better adventure than talking to nature.  Lead on, Master Elf, and Gimli, son of Gloin, will follow."

            Night fell, but their way was still well lit by the full moon, which was beginning to rise.  A gathering of trees was directly ahead.  Legolas could easily discern smoke rising from a fire within.  They had set up comp.  He motioned to Gimli and they rode quietly to the edge of the gathering and left their horses to graze.  Legolas strung his bow and Gimli clutched his axe, ready for anything.  The elf walked lightly, betraying no sound that he had entered the wood.  Gimli had to be more careful, trying to step lightly, but finding a twig or branch under his boot more often than he would like.  He bit his cheek to keep his swears from his tongue.  Luckily, there was so much noise in the camp, none of them heard his heavy steps.

            "Twelve men?  We attack a party half the size of our own, and only get away with twelve men?"  A bone was thrown into the woods and flew just to the right of where Legolas had knelt behind a shrub.  He peered through the leaves to where several of the men were arguing.

            "We got gold and supplies," retorted a new voice.  "Now there are fewer for us to split it with.  It is not a bad thing."  It was a large man who spoke, challenging the first man with his voice.  "Besides, we got entertainment.  I, for one, don't like to share my entertainment."  

            Legolas followed the man's gaze across the clearing to where their prisoner lay.  He was surprised to see that it was a woman in men's garb.  She was on her side, her knees drawn to her chest, arms behind her back.  Her ankles were crossed and bound.  Her eyes were closed, most likely unconscious rather than sleeping in the midst of her danger.  The short intake of breath to his left told him that his companion had also seen the prisoner. He wondered what they meant by entertainment.

            The sound of a sword being drawn brought the elf's attention back to the men.  It was the first man, the smaller man, who held the sword in his hand.

            "No one will have her until I have.  She is my prisoner."  

            It dawned on Legolas what was in store for the prisoner as several more men drew their blades to defend their own rights to rape the poor woman.  He was disgusted that men would dare to violate a woman against her own will.  Legolas could sense the dwarf's rage beside him, inflamed by what these men thought of as entertainment.  Legolas motioned to Gimli to stay where he was, then crept around the camp until the woman lay a few feet ahead of him.  So far, she was in no danger, as the men were fighting over her, cutting down their own numbers without any help from her would-be heroes.  Legolas waited, watching as five men were struck down in the scuffle, including the smaller man who had claimed her.  Still, the men fought.  One who had snuck away to get to the woman was pierced in the throat by an arrow he never saw, unnoticed by the others.  

            Finally, the squabble was over.  Five men had survived and were moving to take their prize.  Legolas stepped into the clearing, an arrow notched and drawn.

            "You will not touch the woman," he told them.

            In the light of the fire, the men could not see that it was an elf who stood before them.  The large man laughed.  "You're no more than a boy.  Will you try to stop us?"  He leapt forward with his sword and was met by Legolas' arrow.  Instantly, another arrow was notched and released into another assailant.  Gimli appeared from the wood behind and flew into a fury as he killed two of the men with his mighty axe and Legolas killed the last one.  

            "There are others approaching," Legolas said as he knelt beside the woman.

            "Then we should get out of here before they appear," Gimli said.

            Legolas cut her binds with his knife and lifted her over his shoulder.  They quickly made their way back to the horses.  Gimli steadied her on Legolas' mount while the elf climbed on behind her, then steadied her by holding her against his chest.  The elf, the dwarf, and the woman escaped into the night.    


	2. Chapter 2

            Legolas and Gimli took the woman back into Fangorn with them, confident they were not being followed and that no one would wander in a discover them.  After all, Fangorn was a cursed place, believed by the superstitious to be haunted.  They stopped in a clearing to make camp.  Gimli built a fire, while Legolas tended to the woman.

            Her injuries were not too severe.  Her left arm was broken in several places, probably from her landing after her horse was killed.  He splinted the arm between two sticks, then tied it across her chest to prevent her from moving it and making the injury worse.  Her left ankle was swollen, but not broken.  The abrasions on her cheek and temple were superficial and had already begun clotting. That she was still unconscious worried him. 

            Then, his agile fingers pushed her long hair from her face to examine the wounds more closely.  A sharp intake of breath marked that she could feel him checking the damage.  He sensed that she was waking and gently cupped her face in his hands to comfort her in her ascent to consciousness.  Her eyes fluttered, then opened slowly.  In a  quick fluid movement that surprised even the elf, her right hand drew a short knife from her belt and swiped it toward the shadow leaning over her.  Legolas fell back to avoid the blade.  Gimli was at his side instantly, his axe drawn, but Legolas had already pinned her hand to the ground.

            "No, friend dwarf.  She does not know who we are."  Then leaning toward her, in a gentle voice, he said, "You are safe here.  Neither I nor my friend will harm you.  Lie still."  Her struggle against him ended.

            Gimli slid the knife from her grasp before Legolas released her.  The dwarf stayed near lest more danger come from their ward.  He noticed the elf kept a hand over his shirt where she had struck at him.  

            She closed her eyes and licked her lips to wet them.

            "I can't move my arm," she whispered.

            "It's broken.  It has been set and tied to your body so it would not become reinjured."  He laid his hand over hers.  "Can you feel my touch?"

            "I can."

            "Good.  Then you should heal without problem."

            "Do you have water?"

            He lowered his own bottle to her lips and lifted her head so she could drink.

            "Thank you," she said weakly before drifting into sleep.

            "Gimli, bring me the blanket from my horse," he said without looking up.  Gimli fetched the blanket and handed it to Legolas, who covered the woman.  Then, he leaned back so he was sitting on the ground, his arm still pressed against his shirt.

            "She's a demon with a blade, that one is," the dwarf said.  "even being an elf, it was luck that saved you from its point."

            "There was no luck."  He moved his arm to reveal the blood that was soaking through. 

            "You're cut?"

            "Scratched.  It is only a scratch.  The tip of the blade caught me, but it is not deep.  It will heal."

            "You're sure?"       

            "Yes.  Already the bleeding has stopped."  The elf stood and recovered some dried fruit and nuts from his pack.  Legolas and Gimli ate a little.  The moon had already risen high in the sky.  "Sleep Gimli.  I will keep watch."

            "Watch?  Are those bandits men looking for us?"

            "No.  At least, not nearby.  But I will keep watch just in case.  We should move on at first light."

            It took little more coaxing for the dwarf to lie on the ground.  Already he was exhausted from their rescue of the woman.  In a few minutes, his eyes were closed and his breathing steady.

            Gimli opened his eyes just before sunrise.  He sat up and looked around the clearing.  His companion was nowhere in sight.  He rolled over and looked to where the woman lay.  She had slept facing the sky, the blanket draped over her body.  He was surprised to see that she was awake as well.  Her eyes fell on him, questioningly.

            "You are a dwarf?"

            "I am.  I am Gimli, son of Gloin."  Gimli rose from the ground, noticed that the fire was dying and moved the stirred the ashes with a stick

            "Where is the elf?"

            "Legolas?  That I don't know.  He'll be back around soon, I'm sure."

            "So he really was an elf?  I thought I had been dreaming until you awoke."

            "He is an elf."

            "A dwarf and an elf traveling together.  That is a strange mix."

            "Aye, I'll grant you that."

            "I've always heard you were enemies."

            "Our people don't get along, if that's what you mean.  But Legolas and I have been through a lot together.  We are companions."

            "You mean you're friends."

            "Yes, we are friends, you could say."  Now he found his water and rinsed his mouth.  "Now that you know our names, what should we call you?"  He brought his water to her and lifted her head so she could drink.

            "Shimalya."

            Before Gimli could answer, another voice filled the silence.

            "It is nice to meet you Shimalya."  Legolas had returned silently, betraying no sound to their ears.  He carried apples from the forest and led a horse.  He dropped the fruit to Gimli, then knelt beside Shimalya.  "How are you feeling?" he asked, moving the blanket aside to look at her ankle.

            "Better," she answered.  "My arm hurts and my head is throbbing, but I am better.

            "Good."  He handed her an apple.  "Can you ride today?"

            "Ride?  Where am I going?"

            "Away from here."  He stood and spoke more loudly so Gimli could hear.  "Those men were discovered by their friends.  We should move as soon as possible."

            "What men?"  

            "What men?" cried Gimli.  "The men who were going to use you for entertainment, as they put it.  The one's we rescued you from."

            "What do you remember?" Legolas asked.

            She rubbed her eyes with her good hand.  "I was riding with my escort to Minas Tirith.  Some men began pursuing us, so we ran for the forest.  They were chasing us.  My horse fell and I saw the ground crashing toward me.  Then you hovered over me."  Her eyes suddenly fell on the slice in the elf's shirt.  "Is that from me?"

            "An accident," came his answer.  "You did not know who we were."

            "Did I cut you?  I'm sorry."

            "A scratch, and you are already forgiven."

            Gimli interrupted.  "So you're traveling to Gondor?  I'd like to see Aragorn and Arwen again, Legolas.  It has been many moons since we've seen our companions."

            "So we shall.  Gimli and I will see you to Minas Tirith, Shimalya.  We shall be your escort."  He smiled at her.

            Legolas helped Shimalya to sit up so she could eat.  She sat with her eyes closed until the vertigo passed, then ate a little of the apple the elf had passed her.  Then, they loaded their horses to begin their journey.  Legolas helped her onto her horse since she had the use of only one arm, mounted his own, and the three were on their way.

            They rode in a single file through the forest, Legolas and Gimli in front, Shimalya behind, saying little, as conversation was difficult in the line.  When they reached the edge of the forest, they were able to ride side by side.  

            Gimli was jolly on the ride, excited to see the ranger again, and spoke nonstop about their adventures of the previous year.

            "You are very brave warriors," she commented when he finished, "to risk so much on such a desperate mission."

            "You can always count on a dwarf in times of desperation," Gimli answered.  "We may not be as tall as Men and Elves, but we are certainly not at the disadvantage."

            "The risk," Legolas added, "was in doing nothing.  Either way, we were all in great danger."

            "You are brave, nonetheless."

            "Where do you hail from, Lady?" Gimli asked.

            "Torrech, north of Lorien," she answered.  "There is some land there where many men went to live in peace after the fall of Sauron so long ago.  Our families have lived there quietly for almost three thousand years."

            "That's near to Mirkwood, my home," Legolas told her.

            "I have heard of it, but never seen it with my own eyes.  Is it very beautiful?"

            "It is."

            "And yet your people are leaving?"

            "A yearning for the Sea has awakened in my people.  We are going to our elder lands."

            "Elder lands?"

            "Aman.  The land from whence we came.  It is a calling home."

            "And will you go?"  She looked at him curiously.

            "One day.  Even now, I feel the calling, like a whisper on the winds, beckoning me to the land of my people."

            "Why haven't you left?"

            "My father and my kin are here.  I am not ready to leave, but I feel I will soon."

            "Soon for a human?  Or soon for an elf?"

            Legolas smiled.  "We do not count time much differently.  Elves just have more to count."  His eyes scanned the horizon, ever on the lookout for danger.   "But it will probably be some years before I go."

            The three fell silent for some time as they rode, each lost in their own thoughts.  Finally, Shimalya spoke up.

            "So elves live very long lives.  How old are you?  You don't appear to have seen many winters."

            "I have seen many more winters than most men ever will, but I am still very young."

            The sun was beginning to set and the group halted to make camp.  Shimalya stumbled slightly as she slid down from her horse, but refused help.  Legolas made a small fire to keep them warm in the cool night, and the three of them sat quietly, eating dried fruits and berries from their satchels.  Presently, Gimli fell asleep a small distance from the fire, preferring the cooler air to the heat for sleep.  Legolas looked across the fire and noticed that Shimalya stared into the fire, not moving, with the blanket had wrapped about her the previous night wrapped tightly around her.

            "Is your arm paining you?" he asked.  She jumped at the question, as if she had been far away in thought.

            "No.  Yes."  She looked thoughtful for a moment.  "Riding is always hard on injuries.  it jars the bones and allows much time to think on them."  Legolas nodded when she said no more.

            "Why do you travel to Minas Tirith?"

            She stared up at him.

            "I am a messenger, and of that I can speak no more."

            Legolas rose.

            "Get some sleep.  We still have much ground to cover before we reach Gondor."

            "And what about you?"

            "I require less sleep.  And I am not recovering from injuries.  Close your eyes. I will keep watch."

            Shimalya did as he bade and sleep came swiftly to her.  

!!!!!!!!!!! 


	3. Chapter 3

            It seemed Shimalya had barely closed her eyes when she was gently shaken awake by the dwarf.

            "Come, lady.  Open your eyes if you want to eat before we continue."

            She forced her eyes open to find the sun was just rising.  Gimli handed her an apple and went to help Legolas, who was loading the horses again.  She sat up and munched on the apple, watching as the odd pair broke camp, putting out the remainder of their fire and scattering the ashes.  Finally, Legolas helped her back onto her horse, then climbed onto his own, lifting Gimli to sit behind him.  

            They rode slowly for most of the day.  Gimli sang songs of the dwarfs, and with a little prodding, Legolas too sang, though his songs were in Elvish, and neither Shimalya nor Gimli understood them.  Nonetheless, they were beautiful and soothing on the long ride.

            As the sun rose to its highest point in the sky, the riders allowed their horses to rest and graze, before mounting them again to ride until nightfall.  However, Legolas soon silenced Gimli's song with an upraised hand, commanding silence.  His gaze fell just beyond the trees to where smoke filled the air.

            "A village is burning."

            "They may need our help!" Shimalya cried.

            Before the words were out of her mouth, she had kicked her heels into her horse and raced off in the direction of the smoke.  Gimli's grip tightened on Legolas' waist as the elf followed behind her, shouting for her to stop.  The distance between them closed quickly, and Legolas grabbed the horse's bridle and slowed it until it stopped.

            "You're not going in there," he told her.  "It's too dangerous."

            "Dangerous?  That is a village, which means there are women and children in danger.  They need help!"

            The clashing of swords drew their attention back to where the smoke emanated from.

            "Gimli and I will go.  You stay in the trees."

            "The trees?  What good will two do?"

            "More than two and a wounded woman," he told her, his eyes flashing now.  "You will stay in the trees, away form the danger."  His grip on her horse's bridle tightened.  He would not let go until she agreed.  Reluctantly, she did so.  Legolas pointed toward the trees, telling her where he would find her, but before she left them, Gimli held out the dagger he has wrestled from her grip the night she awoke in their presence.

            "For your protection, Lady," he told her before bouncing off behind Legolas toward the carnage.

            Shimalya rode to the trees, hiding herself in the foliage as she had been told, watching with eager eyes as her companions rode into the fray.  She lost sight of them as they entered the village.

            Time passed slowly.  Shimalya watched with keen eyes, hoping to catch a glance of her escort, but could see no one resembling the tall elf.  She thought she glanced the dwarf, but found his height too much for her short companion.  Unsure how long she had been hiding, she crept closer to the edge of the trees for a better look.  The sounds had died down, though the noise of the battle still reached her ears. 

            She returned to her horse, but hid behind a tree upon seeing a man investigating her animal.  He was looking through her supplies.  When he pulled at the bridle to lead the horse away, she stepped, moving the leaves of a shrub as she did so to catch his attention.  He spun, sword in hand.

            "Oh, please sir, not my horse!" she cried, then cowered into the shrub upon spotting his weapon.

            "A woman!" he cried, visibly astonished.  "What are you doing here?"

            "Please, sir, I lost my escort.  The noises from the village frightened me, and I hid."  Having fully captured his attention, she cowered lower, sliding her hand into her boot.

            "You're alone?" he asked, excited by the idea.

            "Yes, and injured, as you can see."  She hid her face and feigned a sob.  The sound of his sword sliding back into its scabbard reached her ears and she heard him step closer.             

            "You say you lost your escort?"

            "Yes, an elf and a dwarf."

            The man laughed.

            "An elf and a dwarf, you say?  They're both dead in the village, but I think I can be of some comfort to you."  He gripped the shoulder of her injured arm harshly, and she could feel the bones pushing against each other.  Gritting her teeth against the pain, she spun, planting her knife beneath his ribcage, up toward his heart.  He grunted and fell back, pulling her on top of him.  She struggled against his grip, but loosened herself when death finally gripped him, then relieved him of his sword.  Finally, she mounted her horse and sped toward the village to find Legolas and Gimli. 

            She rode swiftly through the village, finding many of the homes burning.  Women, children, and old men rushed to quench the flames as she rode through amid the bodies strewn throughout the street.  Near the end of the long main street, she found the remains of the battle, no more than a handful of men survived, but the battle continued.  In the midst of it, she spotted the white-blonde hair of Legolas.  

            Gripping the horse with her thigh muscles, she swung the sword with her good arm, dispatching the first of his two attackers.  She swung her mount around in time to see him do away with the second, and as she rode by him, he grabbed at the saddle and pulled himself up behind her.  He reached around her and, pulling on her horse's rein, turned the horse sharply to the left toward Gimli.  Without a word, he jumped from his perch, tumbling over an attacker and doing away with him as he and Gimli fought back to back against the enemy.  Shimalya continued riding through the fighting, helping where she could.

            The splint broke in the fray and the bandages that secured her arm to her body had loosened greatly, causing her arm to slide out and dangle at her side.  When at last the fighting was over, her arm was paining her immensely to the point that it was unbearable.  She was slumped over the neck of her horse when her traveling companions reached her and pulled her from the horse.  Legolas lifted her into his arms and carried her back toward the village in the hopes of finding a healer.

            Shimalya was taken from his arms and taken into the building, which housed the wounded.  Legolas and Gimli followed after and stayed within sight of her at all times until an elderly woman announced that she was mended, but needed to rest.  They looked in on her often during the several days they spent in the village.  Each time, she tried to leave the infirmary area, but was called back to her bed by the elderly woman who declared she needed more rest until she would be ready to travel.  Her companions agreed, and it was nearly a week before she was allowed to leave.

            At last, on the final morning of her stay, Legolas came to retrieve her so they could finish their journey.  After being made to swear he would not allow her to aggravate her arm any more, he took her from the custody of the elderly woman.

            With her arm rebandaged and splinted and placed in a sling, Legolas helped Shimalya onto the remaining horse, as his had been sorely injured in the fray and had to be put down.  Before the sun had fully risen, they continued their path to Gondor.

            "That was a foolish thing to do," Legolas told her as he walked alongside the horse with Gimli at his side.  "You could have been killed."

            "I was in no more danger than you were."

            "No.  Neither I nor Gimli went into that fight injured.  And we are both long experienced in battle.  You had no place-"

            "No place?  Do you think it was only in luck that I slew my attacker in the woods?  Or that I can fight with a sword from horseback?  Since you did not see it in the field, I will show you my experience in battle as soon as my arm is healed!"

            "Legolas, let her be," Gimli told him, drawing a look of shock from the elf.  "I saw her myself, and if she is not a trained warrior, I'll eat my beard and never lift my axe again."

            They continued along in silence, until they came upon a village just within the border of Gondor.  They rented two rooms in an inn at the crossroads and supped in the tavern below.  Throughout dinner, Legolas said very little, and it wasn't until Shimalya retired to bed that Gimli addressed it.

            "What ails you?" he asked over his pint of beer.

            "It is nothing," came the answer.

            "A year of experiencing your moods tells me otherwise.  I ask again, what ails you?"

            "There's more to her than she's telling us."

            Gimli laughed boisterously a his answer.

            "She's a woman, Legolas.  I don't know what your elf women are like, but for most of us, they hold secrets we will ever learn."

            "No, there's something else."

            "It's called allure, Friend Elf."  He lifted his tankard to drink and glanced at his friend over the top.  He was looking deeper into the tavern, but didn't seem to be focused on anything.  "You're drawn to her, aren't you?" he asked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

            The way in which these words startled the elf was all the answer he needed.  His eyes for just a moment, revealed the truth before being masked again.

            "Ridiculous."

            "It's nothing to be ashamed of," Gimli went on.  "She seems to be beautiful by human standards.  A little too tall and thin for my taste, but then she's not exactly a waif."  He went on as Legolas said nothing.  "She could probably pass for an elf with those gray eyes of hers.  And those reflexes!  In all this time, I've never before seen a blade strike you."

            Legolas rose and dropped a few coins on the table.

            "Good night, Gimli."

            "Good night, Legolas.  Tell Shimalya the same when you see her in your dreams!"  He laughed heartily as the elf walked away. 

            In truth, the dwarf was glad to see that Legolas was drawn to such a creature.  True, she was no elf, and that alone would probably stop him from revealing his feelings for her, but then, elves always were a bit snobbish in their affairs, in his opinion.  Still, there were few who could match Legolas, even among men.  Yes, this woman might well be good for him.  

!! 


	4. Chapter 4

            Legolas spoke little during the next day's journey, as was his custom.  He did not allow himself the levity of his companions.  He remained a distance ahead of them, constantly aware of the surroundings and any danger that may lay ahead.  They were not far from Minas Tirith now, and their slow pace annoyed the Elf, yet he knew it was necessary.  They had one horse, and Gimli was not swift of foot. At this pace, they would not reach the white city until the morrow!

            Far behind Legolas, Gimli's song quieted and they walked in silence for some time.  Gimli stared ahead at the elf, who stood listening to the sounds around them as if they were in danger.  They were in Gondor, a land of safe travel since the beginning of the reign of King Elessar!  Of all places, he thought it was Aragorn's land where the elf would let down his guard, but it was not to be.  

            At last, Legolas joined them again and announced they were but  a few hours form the city.

            "Legolas," addressed the dwarf, "let us make camp and continue tomorrow.  We will have a fiercer welcome by day than risk the gates being closed before we reach them."

            "All right, Gimli.  We shall camp here and tomorrow we shall enter the city and the arms of our friends."

            They made camp, and as the moon rose in the sky, they ate of dried fruits and berries and rabbit, which Legolas caught for them and roasted on a spit.  When they were at last well fed, Gimli and Shimalya settled down to sleep, but when Legolas stood, Gimli spoke:

            "Lie down, Elf.  Ye've hardly slept since we began this journey.  No harm will come to us while we are sleeping."

            "Gimli-"

            "There is nothing out there and you know it!  Now lie down.  Ye make my tired just looking at ye.

            Legolas sat before the fire, staring into the dancing flames.  Before long, Gimli's snores reached his ears, forcing a smile to Legolas' lips.  Legolas stood.

            "He is right."  Legolas turned and saw Shimalya looking up at him.  "You have slept little since I joined your company."

            "I do not need it."

            "Your friend is worried."

            "Without cause."

            "But worried, nonetheless.  Heed your friend's words.  Rest your eyes a little."

            "I will rest when I return," he told her, and began to stride away.

            "Who is Elbereth?"

            "Elbereth?"  He turned.  "Why do you ask?"

            "You sing of her often.  Elbereth Gilothoniel."

            "She is the maker of the stars."  He smiled and turned his eyes to the dark sky, spotted by the bright stars.  "It is she who lights our way home through darkness and despair."

            "A god?"

            "A Valier," he told her, stepping closer.  "A Holy One who watches over us for Ilu'vatar.  It is they who await us on Aman."

            "Have you ever seen it?  Aman?"

            "No."

            "Then how do you know it is there?"

            "Have you ever seen Minas Tirith?"

            "No."

            "Then how do you know it is there?"

            "I know people who have been there."

            "It is the same with me.  the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien has seen it.  She was born there."  He paused, thoughtful for a moment.  His blue eyes shone in the flames of the fire.  "Aman is a voice on the wind, calling us home.  How can a beckon so strong be of nothing?"  He smiled softly and strode out into the darkness. 

            Shimalya was the first to wake the next morning.  Having ridden the entire previous day, she was not as tired as the elf and the dwarf.  She rose, pulling her blanket around her against the morning chill.  She gasped at spying the elf.  His eyes were wide open, yet he was still, as if in sleep.

            She grasped the dwarf's arm.   "Gimli!  Wake up!"

            "What is it?" he asked groggily.

            "There has been some evil!  The elf is dead!"

            The dwarf leapt to this feet, axe clutched in his hand, and ran to Legolas' side.  Seeing his friend and what the woman thought was death, he pitched into a fit of laughter.  Legolas jumped at the loud sound so near to him and stared at the dwarf as if he were insane.

            "She thought- you were dead!" he gasped, holding his sides, then exploded into another fit of laughter that rang through the empty countryside.  Legolas looked from Gimli to Shimalya, then laughed himself.  The young woman merely looked at the two of them.

            "His eyes were open-" she began.

            "As are the eyes of all elves when they sleep," Legolas told her.

            "Or when they are dead," Gimli laughed.  "Oh cheer up, Lady.  It's a ghastly thing to get used to, but a great laugh when it is discovered unknowingly."

            Thus, in high spirits, they continued to Minas Tirith and by noon, they could see the tall Citadel peeking out at them.  In an hour's time, a single horse rode out to them.

            "It is Aragorn!" Legolas announced happily, though neither Shimalya nor Gimli could see him clearly yet.

            Aragorn rode swiftly to them and, leaping from his horse, embraced his Companions in turn.

            "Vedui, Legolas.  Greetings, Gimli.  It is good to have you back.  And I see you've brought a guest.  An injured guest, at that."

            "Aragorn, this is Shimalya of Torrech," Legolas said, helping her down from the horse.

            "You are welcome to our city, Mistress Shimalya," Aragorn said, kissing her hand.  "Now, let us go to the gate.  Arwen will be happy to see both of you again."

            "I wish to see King Elessar," Shimalya said, walking between Legolas and Gimli.

            "Tomorrow, Mistress," Aragorn told her with a winsome smile.  "Speak to him tomorrow.  Today is for rest, and tonight is for feasting and celebration!"

            Indeed, Arwen welcomed them at the gate, speaking to Legolas briefly in their native tongue and kissing Gimli on the forehead.  Then, she, too, welcomed Shimalya to the city.  She eyed Shimalya's arm and called forth on of her ladies to take the young woman to bathe and dress, and to see a healer.

            Aragorn took the his Companions to the Citadel, and there, they relayed the adventured that had covered the previous year.  Then, they were led to the banquet hall for dinner, where Legolas scanned the room for Shimalya, whom he hadn't seen since she had been led away several hours earlier.

            "Our guest resembles a woman when she's clean," Aragorn remarked from beside him.

            Legolas looked at him, then followed his nod to the direction of the young woman.  Even with his keen elfen eyes, Legolas could not have picked her from the crowd.  Gimli picked up the line of sight and choked into his beer.

            The change in Shimalya was breathtaking.  The dirt had been cleansed from her skin, and her long braid was loosed and thoroughly washed, and now shined on her shoulders and down her back, and held from her face by several small intricate braids.  She was dressed in a gown of deep moss, presumably loaned by Arwen from the richness of color.  She looked around the room, as if memorizing the faces of every person present. 

            "Are you all right there, Legolas?" Aragorn asked, clasping his friend's shoulder.

            "She's a fine creature," Gimli said, nudging the elf.  "Not that you haven't already noticed."

            Legolas threw him a look of annoyance and stepped forward to escort the young woman to their table.

            She smiled at him as she took his outstretched hand.

            "Lle naa vanimar," he said softly as he lead her toward the table.

            "I don't know what that means," she told him, still smiling.

            "It means your seat is at our table."

            "You sit at the high table?" she asked as they made their way to their seats.  

            He nodded as they sat.

            "Is this not the King's table?"  Her voice trembled as she voiced her curiosity.

            Again, the elf nodded.

            She turned and began scanning the room, as if searching for someone.  Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Aragorn and Arwen moving toward their table.  There were only two seats left open, those for the king and queen.

            Legolas felt the warmth of her hand grabbing his.

            "Legolas, your friend, Aragorn, he is-?"

            "King Elessar," Gimli answered from her other side.  "You didn't know?  Well, this day holds many surprises, then."  He chuckled, then, glancing her hand on the elf's, smiled.  Legolas saw this, and withdrew his own hand, frowning at the dwarf.  Shimalya did not seem to notice. 

            The Banquet Hall was riotous with talk and laughter as they ate.  Shimalya said little throughout, smiling and laughing softly as stories were told around her, but she did not seem to be listening to them, merely emitting the correct emotion at the appropriate times.  Legolas wondered at this as the tables were cleared and musicians brought in for dancing.

            A hushed silence filled the room as Aragorn led Arwen to the floor to begin the revelry, and soon, many more people crowded the floor for dancing.  Shimalya was roused from her seat to take her place on the floor, first with Aragorn, then with a number of young men who took their turns with the single young woman who danced with the king.  Legolas spent much of the time at the table with Gimli, but took a few turns with young ladies who wished to dance with the elf, but never did his eyes stray from Shimalya.

            At last, she broke away and retreated to the balcony, eager for fresh air.  It was there that Legolas found her.  She jumped at noticing his there, just a few feet away, having not heard his light step.

            "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

            "I am," she answered, but sadness touched her brow.  "The dancing in Torrech is similar to this, but the steps are different.  I believe I stepped on many toes, including the King's."

            "Is this what causes your sadness?"

            "Sadness?"  She smiled.  "I am not sad."

            "Yet you frowned just a moment ago."  He leaned against the wall beside her where she looked out over the lights of the city.

            "I was thinking of home."

            "But you have not been away very long."

            "No, but even at that-."  Her voice trailed off.  Sadness crossed her brow again.

            "Where I am from," he said, attempting to draw her back to the gaiety of the evening, "The dancing is much different."

            "How so?"

            "It is part of the music, not a reflection of it."

            She looked at him strangely, not understanding.  The elf stepped away from the wall, and singing softly, showed her the slow, intricate steps of the music.  When he finished, he took her hand and guided her through the steps, still singing softly, laughing when she misstepped or moved the wrong direction.  And she too laughed as they both turned, and where he would have grasped her hand, found only air, as her arm was still in a sling.  He held her hand out as if he held her's and continued the steps.

            "Hannon le," she told him when the finished.

            "I thought you did not speak my tongue!" he exclaimed.

            "I do not.  I learned that from Ar- Queen Arwen.  It means 'thank you,' does it not?"

            "It does," he answered with a laugh.  He allowed her to fill his eyes for a moment, then said, "Vanimle sila tiri."

            "Vanimla sela tili?" she asked, repeating, as he laughed softly.

            "Vanimle sila tiri."

            "Vanimle sila tiri.  And what does that mean?"

            "Your beauty shines tonight."

            "That's beautiful."

            He lifted her chin with his finger and looked into her eyes.

            "Vanimle sila tiri," he repeated more softly, and kissed her gently.        


	5. Chapter 5

Time passed quickly in Minas Tirith.Soon, Shimalya's sling had disappeared and she could be found in the grassy courtyards with young boys who had finished their chores, fighting great battles with their mighty sticks.Laughter rose as she taught them assaults and defenses.More than a few were curious how she had learned to fight.

"Much as you are now," she told them.

Sometimes Legolas joined them, with the children shouting and crowding about to see the elf.Other times he watched from the high up branches of a shading tree.But always, the same question conquered his mind.

"How did she learn to fight with such skill?"

He knew the answer was unimportant.After all, hadn't Eowyn fought in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields with them?Other questions found him.Why the look of sadness so often on her face?Why did she look on Aragorn with such fear and sorrow since she learned who he was?

Yet, when he walked with her, felt her hand in his, touched the soft skin of her cheek, these questions eluded him.What need had he of these questions when she looked at him so?What need when he returned from hunting with Aragorn to find her waiting for him?What need, when they stole away to the balcony to dance unnoticed by any but the stars?

As the sun began its downward journey to the east, Shimalya stole away toward the tavern, a large cloak covering her identity from all who cared to glance her way.Concealed in her shaking hand was a message that had been delivered to her only a few moments before.She had broken the seal and read the words, dread gripping her heart.And now, she was entering the tavern where her presence had been demanded.

Without looking around, she made her way to the darkest corner to where a dark haired man was waiting for her, leaning back in his chair, his leg sitting leisurely on the tabletop.A man she knew and loathed to see here.

"Good evening, Shi-"

"Hush.Say not my name."She stole a glance around the room, and seeing too many people who would know her, kept her face covered."What are you doing here?" she demanded in a hushed voice.

"I am on an errand from Karak to see if your task is fulfilled.He was concerned to hear your escort had been murdered."He sounded amused at this.

"If it were, you would have known 'ere you stepped foot in this place."

"Yes, I can see that."He leaned forward, his black eyes taking in the room and its inhabitants."Yet, you know your people await your return?"

Shimalya stared at him, her eyes blazing.

"Tell Karak my task will be fulfilled.Now get out of here and never let me see you here again."The man laughed as he threw several coins onto the table.Shimalya remained, staring into the flickering light of the candle upon the table, as if meditating upon the importance of the task.At last, she moved quickly from her chair and across the room in long strides, and entered the coming evening over Minas Tirith.

Wanas, Keeper of Keys for Minas Tirith, knocked eagerly on the door of the King's library.In his grasp, a small boy cowered, attempting to hide himself behind the man's girth.Upon hearing permission to enter, Wanas pushed the door open and bowed.King Elessar sat before the fire with the elf and the dwarf, both of whom were like king themselves in the country.

"My Lord," said Wanas, bowed his head."My son, Glorin, has come with news which you must hear."

"Go ahead," the king said, smiling encouragement at the terrified boy.But Glorin could find no voice until his father squeezed his arm.

"Sire," he squeaked, but again, he looked around, terrified.

"Something is amiss."Legolas looked at the boy.He was one he had seen often in the courtyard with Shimalya.

King Elessar looked from the elf to the boy.

"Come, Glorin." he said slowly."What can it be that strikes terror so deep in your heart?"

"I was out, Sire," he said, wide-eyed."I was out in the city after dark, though I know I should not have been."His voice faltered.His father squeezed his arm harder, urging him on."A man in a cloak grabbed me.He pulled me behind the barrels beside the tannery, and he said- he said to beware, the king was to be murdered tonight in his own bed."

Alarm shone on the faces of his Companions, but if Elessar felt it, it was not visible.

"Glorin, who was the man?"

"I know not.I saw no face.And he kept his voice low to disguise it.But he was not tall.Perhaps not as much as Master Legolas, but more so than Master Gimli.And he had small hands."The boy was shaking."I'm sorry, Sire.I thought you would think it a game if I told you.My father-"

"It's all right, Glorin.You did the right thing in telling us.You are brave boy.Now go.Have you eaten yet?Go to the kitchen and get some soup.Then, to bed.Your work is done."

"Th-thank you," stammered the boy, and bowing, he scurried from the room.

"Wanas," Elessar said when the boy was gone."Find my Stewart and send him here.Inform the queen that she must take to other quarters tonight.I will come to her when I can.Keep some men with her at all times."

"And what of your safety, my Lord?"

The king conversed quietly with the elf in a tongue Wanas did not understand, then said: "Give me four men.No more.Ones you know and trust.Bid them meet me here." 

In the hours before he normally retired, Aragorn set his trap, having his men enter his sleeping chambers one at a time at long intervals.Legolas and Gimli entered first, as their appearance drew attention.Then, more men went in, waited, and left.Others merely went in.Anyone watching could not know whether anyone was still inside.

While this charade was taking place, Aragorn went to Arwen to tell her what was happening.He sat with her for some time, then went to his room where the charade had long taken place and the trap set.Putting out the candle, he quietly took out his sword and stood quietly in the dark among his men, waiting.

In the close quarters, Legolas drew his sword, waiting.Much time passed, and he could hear the strain of the steel in the men's arms, an din the dark, he could see all but Aragorn and Gimli relaxing, as if they thought this a hoax.

Presently, the elf heard footsteps making their way toward the chamber.They stopped outside the door, pausing.The door opened without a creak.A shadow entered.He could see clearly the form of a woman.Soundlessly, she made her way to the bed where Aragorn and Arwen normally slept.She hesitated, for what seemed like years, glancing in his direction as if she knew someone was there, then thrust her sword into the mattress.Legolas leapt forward, drawing the tip of his blade to the throat of the assassin.He heard the clang of steel being dropped to the ground.

As the light of the room was rekindled, the elf was aghast at the sight before him.Shimalya stood, her eyes cast to the ground, with the tip of Legolas' blade at her throat.Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his.Wordless questions and unforgivable answers passed through their eyes as her hands were thrust behind her back by a guard and tied.Legolas said not a word as Shimalya, the woman he loved, and would-be assassin of his friend, was lead from the room.

Legolas stood wordlessly, staring at the doorway through which she had been led.He heard no words from anyone, and only stirred when he felt Aragorn's hand on his shoulder.

"Legolas."

He shrugged the hand away and stalked out.

Anger broiled in the elf's heart.He had been betrayed by the human he had allowed himself to love.He pushed past all who tried to speak to him in the corridors of the fortress, hearing no words they spoke, and made his way through the winding roads and seven gates to the stables.He found his horse and rode off into the blackness beyond the city.

The cry of Elbereth! echoed through the city, and all who heard it were moved by the despair in the voice.Few knew of the Elf's hurt, and fewer still of the meaning of the cry.Arwen wept in her husband's arms for him, for Aragorn had told her the events of the night.And Shimalya, alone in her cell with a small window to admit the cry, wept bitterly in her heart.She remembered, as he had told her, Elbereth was called on in moments of deepest darkness and despair, and she knew how deeply she had wounded Legolas.

Many hours later, Shimalya was led in bondage into a room.Her eyes were red and swollen from the tears of the passing night.Before her, at a long table, sat King Elessar, his queen, the elf, Arwen, and many of his men.One seat was left empty.

"Mistress Shimalya, stranger to these lands," a man spoke before her, "you are hereby found guilty of the attempted assass-"

The door to the room banged open.All sound fell silent as Legolas strode across the room and sat in the empty chair.He stared fixedly at the woman who would not raise her eyes to meet his."

"Assassination," the man continued, "of King Elessar, Lord of Gondor.You were caught in the act, for which the penalty is death.What have you to say?"

"I beg to speak to the king in private," she answered.

"You will find no clemency in private words!" Legolas found himself crying out, rising to his feet.

"I speak not of clemency, nor do I seek it."She did not look at him as she spoke, but looked to the king."I ask only for a moment of the King's time before my punishment."

"Legolas, havo dad," Aragorn told him gently and considered silently for a moment the woman's request, then consented.

"I will grant your request, but under guard.Know, Mistress Shimalya, that a repeated action of last night will bring instant retaliation."

Shimalya was led into a connecting room by a guard, followed by Aragorn.

When the door was closed, Arwen laid her hand over Legolas'.

"Legolas, I have never seen you act so."

"I have never seen such an act," was his answer.

"You are blinded by your feeling for the woman.You do not see what any elf would notice about her.This woman is tormented, and had been since she entered the city."

"She tried to murder the friend of the elf who loves her.That is enough for torment."

"No," Arwen sighed."I saw it about her before she knew the king and Aragorn were the same.It is the torment of an act, which should not be committed. An act of desperation.I believe there is more to this woman that we have seen."

Arwen fell silent, allowing her words to sink into the mind of the young elf.He sat perfectly still, staring a the wall on the far side of the room, betraying no emotion, but to Arwen, who saw the great anger and betrayal hanging over him.

Finally, Aragorn returned to his seat, followed by Shimalya a and her guards.

"Mistress Shimalya, I bid you speak aloud of what you have told me in private."

The woman looked to the ground as she spoke.

"My name is Shimalya, daughter of warrior, Donuval.As his only living blood, I was trained in the art of weaponry and war, so the skills of my family would not be lost.After my father's death, I was taken in by his friend, Theus of Torrech.As one of few women skilled in war, I was given the task of protecting his wife and daughter, as I could be with them when no guard could.We had fallen on hard times in the last harvest.Our fields yielded no food, and my people became distraught.Then a stranger entered our lands.This man claimed to be one of the protector's of Hobbiton, and wanted to help us restore our land.He quickly took control of our people.We became like slaves to him and the men he brought with him. When he learned I was a warrior in woman's guise, he called me into Theus's home, now his, and said to me that only the death of the Ruler of Gondor would buy their safety.I came here in the hope that my act would free them.In his chamber, I asked the King to send help to my people, and release them from these men."

"You came here openly to commit murder to help your people?"Legolas asked.

"I traveled here in disguise," she answered, meeting his fierce gaze."I was to commit my act, then escape unsuspected as a woman.But in traveling here, my escort was destroyed, and my disguise with it.I continued my journey here with you and Master Gimli, but you both knew what I looked like.I needed to save my people, so I acted openly, hoping that in my own capture and death, my people would be freed."

"Why didn't you simply ask for help in the first place?"

"I thought on that, but what king would send his men to a far-off town, a land that is not his own, to save people he has never known?What king would even take the time to listen to a woman while she told the tale, were she not highborn or on trial?"

The room fell silent as the occupants mulled the story over in their minds, but the elf could not take his eyes from her.He looked on her with new eyes, seeing her as Arwen had.He saw the desperation in her.

'She has fooled you, my friend,' he heard in Arwen's voice.

'No, I see her plainly now.'

'As plainly as she saw you.'

'Saw?'

'She entered a room she had never seen before, without light, and found the bed, making no sound.Did she even try attempt to escape?'

'No.She knew we were there.'

'She knew you were there.'

Suddenly, all became clear before him.Most men would not take counsel of a woman.She did not believe Aragorn would.Shimalya had entered the room, knowing she would be captured.It had been she who warned the boy of the attempt.

"You knew Aragorn was not in his bed when you entered.You knew we were there, didn't you?" he whispered, but his voice seemed to echo in the silence of the room.

Her eyes met his in answer.She did.

Finally, Aragorn spoke again."I shall send men to Torrech with Mistress Shimalya, to free her people.If it is found that she has lied in this room, she will be put to death, as is the punishment.If not, she will remain there, free.Take her back to hercell.The party will leave at first light."

"I will accompany," Legolas announced without raising his eyes.His voice held no pride, but anger.

"I do not ask this of you," Aragorn told him.

"I ask it of myself.If what this woman says is true, I will help to free her friends.If it proves false," he paused, as if finding the right words."If it proves false, her execution will be swift."


	6. Chapter 6

            Shimalya requested men's garb for the journey, and it was granted.  She dressed herself in her cell, then under heavy guard, she was escorted to where Legolas and Gimli awaited her with their party of fifty men.  Her hands were bound according to the elf's directions, and she was placed on a horse which was tethered by rope to Legolas on one side and a guard on the other..  Her guards were to be mindful to keep any weapons out of her reach.  As the sun began to creep over the horizon, they rode out of Minas Tirith.

            "Is this really necessary?" she asked Legolas.

            "It is," he answered without looking at her.

            "Why?"

            "I can't trust you."

            Those words spoken, Shimalya attempted no more speech with the elf.  

            The party rode long each day, stopping only for sleep, at which time Shimalya remained bound and guarded.  The men to whom her horse was tethered were changed each day, but always, Legolas remained near her, ever mindful of who she spoke to and what was said.  Never, though, did he speak to her.  Thus, they traveled for to six days, always moving at first light, and sleeping as the sun set, resting their horses in between at intervals of four hours.  

            "Tell me what you know of this man," he said finally as they began to near Torrech.

            "Of him personally, I do not know much.  He keeps guards around himself constantly, and rarely leave Theus' fortress.  I have only spoken with him once, when he sent me to Gondor."

            "Why did he want Aragorn dead?"

            "Of that, I do not know."

            "And the fortress?"

            "The fortress is safe-haven in case of attacks.  It is built of stone in five levels, the bottom most being for prisoners and criminals.  It lies partially underground and contains no way to enter or exit the building.  The next level contains the Banquet Hall, Meeting Hall, and all public areas.  There are two main entrances, both of which can be heavily barred for protection.  The above floors contain sleeping quarters for Theus and his family and servants."

            "They are all that stay there?"

            "Yes, but it was built to house the entire town if need be."

            "And its fortifications?"

            Shimalya smiled.

            "Not as strong as they should be, which should be an advantage.  A high wall surrounds the fortress and part of the town.  It has grown so quickly, many people have moved outside the walls, making them near useless.  The gate has never been closed in my lifetime.  The wall can be used as a vantage for archers, but there are too few trained to make it worthwhile.  Karak, however, brought many men with him, so it is possible it will be a danger, but I believe he only has enough to cover an attack in one area.

            "If the gate is closed, or his men are protecting the east wall, the west side of the wall is the best way to gain entrance.  It lies on a hill, and it is lowest at that point.  Located there is a garden Theus planted for his daughter, Lady Nalaya.  From that point, a few men could gain entrance to the Library, so long as they do not draw attention to themselves."  She smiled sadly.  "My father tried for years to have the fortifications enhanced, but with all the years of peace, it was thought unnecessary.  He was, however, able to build a passage to lead the people out of the fortress if it was ever taken.  Both entrances are well hidden and only known to Theus' family and their guards."

            Legolas was distracted by shouts from ahead.  Men on horses were racing toward them, swords drawn.  He drew his bow and rode forward to meet them.

            The attack was short but powerful.  Though they were not so well-trained as the Men of Gondor, they broke through the ranks by sheer numbers, fighting for perhaps three-quarters of an hour before retreating back into the forest.  The party gave no chase.  Though they had cut their attackers in half, a number of their own men were wounded.  Only two had died.  Legolas was dismayed to learn that the two fatalities were Shimalya's guards, and that she had disappeared.

            "It was a rescue," he said as he found Gimli among the men.  "They attacked us to rescue her."  

            "Perhaps," was all Gimli said.  He stared into the thick trees.

            "There is something more you wish to say," the elf observed.

            "Only that they lost many men to rescue one woman.  Especially one who failed to do what she was sent for."

            "You don't believe she wished to go with them?"

            "I haven't known what to believe since I saw her in Aragorn's room with my own eyes, but one thing I know, that was no rescue.  She could have been killed in that attack, by either them or us."

            "Your words are sound."

            Gimli smiled at the compliment, but Legolas stared off into the forest in the direction of the riders' retreat toward Torrech.  Then he turned his gaze to the hill opposite their path.  It was thick with trees and could easily hide their party.

            "Gimli, take the men up into those trees and make camp.  No fires.  Do nothing until I return."  He leapt onto his horse once more.

            "And where are you going?"

            "To have a look around."  He turned his horse.  "Remember, do nothing until I return."  Legolas sped into the forest.

            Having only a half hour's lead, Legolas caught up with their attackers quickly.  He followed them at a distance so as not to draw their attention.  They rode hard, though unpursued.  With his sharp eyes, he spied Shimalya in their group, still bound and her horse being led by another.

            Perhaps Gimli was right.

            Suddenly, a great grassland appeared in the forest, dotted by many small houses, and further back, a walled fortress, exactly as Shimalya had described, but with one difference.  The gate was closed.  

            From the cover of the forest, he examined the town.  Few people could be seen, though it did not look abandoned.  He guessed the people feared the riders and would rather not be seen by them.  Riding around to the west side of the area, he saw the land begin to slope into a hill.  The top of the wall as still several feet above, but nothing he could not handle.  By the time he was directly across from the hill, the sun was beginning to set. Darkness would soon fall, covering the breach.  

            He left this horse, wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, and made his way up the hill.  When he came to the wall, he found that the mortar had fallen from many of the stones, leaving small crevices in which he could fit his fingers and toes.  He climbed slowly, always aware of the sounds around him.  He could hear the footsteps of one man, but no more.  The elf threw one leg over the wall for balance, notched an arrow and released it before the guard even knew he was there.  he dropped several feet into the garden, and after retrieving his arrow from the guard's throat, dragged the body to a dark corner near the wall where it would not be discovered.

            Legolas checked the Library, and finding it empty, slipped inside.  From this point, he was unsure where to go.  He removed his cloak and placed his bow and quiver directly on his back, then covered them again with the cloak, giving him the appearance of a hunched back.  Then, he pulled his hood to cover his face and mask his features.  Finally, he grabbed several pieces of wood from the fireplace, and his disguise complete, went into the hallway.

            He walked slowly, affecting the movements of an old man, and when stopped, answered that the night was to be cold and he was placing wood in each fireplace.  This excuse seemed to work, as he was allowed to continue his way through the Fortress.  At last, he came to a large room with many columns for support.  The door was open, and though he could not see all the way in, heard a man announcing that "the woman" had been found.  Legolas dropped his wood behind a statue and removed his weapons from under his cloak.  Then, he slipped into the room.  

            He could hear voices, but still could see nothing.  Legolas crept closer.  Shimalya was led, still bound, to the center of the Meeting Room, facing a high backed plush chair.  He guessed the man sitting in it was Karak.  Men were lined up on either side of him, each bearing weapons.

            "So, our little warrior maiden has returned to us."  He rose from the chair and crossed the room to where she stood.  "I have not heard news that the King was dead, and yet here you stand before me.  Needless to say, you have sealed the fate of your friends.  However, there is still a chance for you to save yourself."  She flinched as he ran his fingers through her hair.  "Not all men are afraid to have a powerful woman by his side."  Legolas tightened as Karak slid his finger down her cheek as he spoke.  "I would be very happy to come home to a woman like you in my bed.  And I could make you very- happy, as well."  His finger slid down her jaw bone to her neck, tracing its way to the top of her shirt.  "Many times a night."

            "I did not come here to surrender myself to you," she said.  

            "Why did you come back?"

            "To demand that you release my people."

            Karak's laughter echoed through the large room.

            "To demand that I release your people!  And why should I do that, exactly?"

            "Because if you do not, you will die."

            He feigned thoughtfulness for a moment.

            "I see.  I hadn't thought of that. And yet you are standing here alone, while I have many men here with me.  And you are bound, I am told, by those same people who brought you here.  You don't seem to be in a position to be making demands of me, my Shimalya.  You cannot match me.  There is no one left to save you.  No one, but me."  He stepped closer, pushing his face into her hair.

            Legolas notched an arrow, ready to strike should she need his assistance.  He heard a single footstep and spun around to find three arrows aimed at his throat.

            "Drop your weapon, Elf."

            Legolas did as he was bid.  Dying here would not save Shimalya.  His hands were bound behind his back and he was led to the floor of the meeting room.  Karak's eyes shifted up to him as he entered.

            "Another guest?  And an elf, I see."

            Shimalya turned, a look of fear crossing her face for just a moment.

            "A friend of yours, Shimalya?" Karak asked.

            "No," she answered in a low voice.

            "Yet there's a change in you since the elf was brought in.  Do you fear for him?"

            "I fear for anyone who is a guest of yours."

            "I see."  He walked around her, stopping in front of Legolas.  He nodded toward the guard who stood behind the elf, and he grabbed Legolas, pulling his hair harshly, whipping his head back and baring his throat.  Karak pressed the tip of his sword against the soft flesh, drawing a drop of blood.

            "No!" Shimalya started to cry, but was silenced by a look from Legolas.  Give him nothing to use against you.

            But it was too late.  Karak knew he meant something to her.  He swung his arm, hitting Legolas in the temple with the hilt of his sword.  The elf crumpled to the floor, unconscious.  Blood trickled down his face.

            "Put him in a cell," he told the guards.  Legolas' body was dragged from the room, as Shimalya tried to push past Karak to reach him.  "No, my dear," he told her, pushing her to the ground.  "I have a different cell for you."

            Legolas lay on the cold ground of a cell where he had remained for a day and a night and another day.  Only the persistent rise and fall of his chest revealed to his captors that he was still alive.  None dared go into the cell, for the fighting skills of the elves were legendary.

            Presently, sounds reached the keen ears of the elf.  First, the voices of his guards right outside the cell.  They were hushed and full of fear, fear for their own lives in the actions of their leader.

            Then more sounds.  Dogs outside.  Servants bustling about.  And other people near him.  Great despair.  They, too, were captives.  Shimalya?  No, her voice was not among them.  For several hours, he remained still, too weak to move, listening to the sounds within the fortress.

            Sensation came to him next, telling him he was not in fact dead.  His head pounded.  His face was sticky with is own blood.  Slowly, using the wall to steady himself, he pulled himself up to sit.  The room spun and he waited for the vertigo to pass.  Then, again using the wall as leverage, he rose to his feet.

            His cell was small with a pile of straw in the corner for a bed and a ragged blanket which had became a nest for the rats.  There was no window for air or escape.  No way to send a message to Gimli and the Man of Gondor who were encamped outside the bounds of the village.  He wondered bitterly how long he had been there and whether they were even now attempting to enter the fortress.

            Legolas' hands touched his hips and back, looking for what he knew he would not find.  Though his cloak remained, his weapons were gone.  His blade and quiver and bow had all been taken.  The weapons given him by Lady Galadriel herself.  He would retrieve them.  He investigated his cell, looking for anything he could use as a weapon.  All he found were rats, the dirt on the ground,  the blanket and the straw.  He was deep in thought, creating a plan in his mind when he heard the screaming.  It was far off in the fortress, above him somewhere.  A woman's distress filled heavily with pain.

            It was Shimalya.

            The guards outside fell silent at the cry.  They too had heard it.  It was only when the screams became sobs, then quieted, that they spoke again.

            "He'll be the death of us," one of the men said.

            "Shut up, you fool, or you'll be the death of us," someone answered.

            "You didn't see," the first man whispered.  His voice was distraught.  "The elf came for her.  She means something to him.  And now Karak's up there-"

            "Quiet!"

            "Don't you know the stories?" the first man cried.  "The Elves have mystical powers.  The enchant you with their songs and their beauty.  They make you forget who you are.  They can read our minds, tell whether we are good or evil and kill you if you're evil.  They're dangerous creatures.  Karak should have killed this one while he had the chance."

            "Idiot!  Have you ever even seen an elf before this one?  All you know are stories women tell children so they'll do as they're told.  They are as human as you or I."

            "Human?  There's nothing human about this one.  How did he get to the Meeting Room without anyone seeing or hearing him?  Stealthy, they are.  They move like the wind and with as little sound."

            "Then how did Durog catch this one, if they're so powerful?"

            "Luck.  But it won't last long.  He took the elf's weapons for his own.  No Man can wield Elven weapons.  If this elf gets out, neither Karak nor Durog will survive it."

            "Well, he won't get out.  He will not get through this door alive.  Now quit your sniveling before I kill you myself."

            The men stopped talking, but Legolas thought long on what he heard.  They feared him, that was clear and would work to his advantage.  And now he knew who had his weapons.  The man called Durog.  The red-haired man who had found him.  And he knew that Karak was harming Shimalya in some way.  The Scared Man was right.  Neither man would get out alive when he escaped.

            Studying the door, Legolas discerned he would not make his escape through it unless the guards opened it for him.  It was quite thick and would not be broken without some aid.  There was a small hole at eye level, covered with a board when not in use, which the guards could look through to check on him, making it virtually unnecessary to open the door.  He would need to make them open it, but how?  He decided he would use the fear of the of the Scared Man against him. 

            Legolas sat silently in his cell, working out his plan.  The Scared Man was gone; his shift ended.  Twice more he heard Shimalya's cries as many hours passed.  When once again the Scared Man returned, he had heard no more of Shimalya, but from the guards' talk, he knew she was still alive.  At last, he heard footsteps and knew the Scared Man was alone outside his door.  Legolas wrapped his elven cloak about his body, covering his face, and stepped against the wall near to the door, knowing he would be invisible to any eyes which sought him out.  Thus set, he began singing in Elvish loud enough for the guard to hear.

            He heard the Scared Man freeze, not even daring to the breathe.  The board was removed from the hole in the door and two terrified eyes peered in.

            "Elf, what are you singing?"

            "I'm singing of your death."  He continued his song.

            "Stop it!  Stop it!"  He heard a sword drawn from its scabbard.  "Where are you, Elf?  Show yourself!"

            Legolas did not stop the song.  He dropped his voice so it was low and tormenting to the man's fear.  Finally, he stopped.

            "Do you feel your chest tightening?  Your breath slow to come?"  He heard the rustle of clothing as the man tore at his shirt as if it bound him.  His breathing was labored from the imagined death which was to come. 

            "Stop it!  Stop it, or I will cut your throat!"

            Legolas smiled to himself as he began singing again.

            Keys clattered and entered the lock, which clicked as it unlatched.  The Scared Man pushed the door open, entering with his sword level.  

            "Where are you?"  He whirled in the dark.  "Where are you?"

            Legolas whipped the blanket out and it tightened around the man's sword.  the elf pulled hard, tearing the steel from the man's grip.  The man's eyes were wide now as the elf stepped from the shadows and took up the blade.  He leveled it at the man.

            "My spell is upon you.  If you cry out for help, your death will be very slow and very painful.  But, give me the information I need, and make no sound after I leave, and you will live a long life."

            The Scared Man fell to his knees, sobbing.  The bargain struck, he told Legolas where Shimalya was held, where his own weapons were, who the others in the cells were.  He told how to escape from the fortress and all manner of information he had.  Legolas, thankful for the information, reminded the Scared Man of the spell, and escaped from the cell, locking it up behind him.  Taking the keys from the lock, he opened the other cells, finding Theus and his family.  

            "You are the Elf they brought in?" Theus asked, as Legolas released him.  "You came here with Shimalya?"

            "I am."  Giving Theus the keys, he said, "Do you know how to escape from here without being seen?"

            "Of course."

            "Then do it.  Release the other prisoners, except for the guard in the next room.  He will give no alarm.  Then go from here.  There is a camp of Men of Gondor outside the village.  Find the dwarf, Gimli.  Tell him who you are and that Legolas sent you to him."  He stopped and considered for a moment.  "Do you know how to get back inside without being noticed?"

            "Yes.  The same way we are going out.  A passage in the floor of the kitchen."

            "Does Karak know of it?  Will it be guarded?"

            "No.  Surely not."

            "Good.  Tell Gimli of it so he can bring our men in.  Now go quickly."

            Theus wasted no time in releasing the other prisoners.  With his cloak again covering him, Legolas climbed the dark stairs into the belly of the fortress.  The Scared Man's directions were clear and he found his way quickly to floor Shimalya was being held.  He moved quickly and quietly, pressing against the wall when servants or Karak's men passed by.  He needed to free Shimalya before drawing attention to himself.

            At last, he found the guarded room that held Shimalya.  He killed the man who stood outside her room and, taking his weapons, entered the room.   

            Legolas froze at the unspeakable horror before him.  Shimalya was tied down on the bed by her ankles and wrists.  Only a thin dirty blanket covered her nakedness.  Her wrists were rubbed raw by the ropes, and blood seeped through the blanket at her ankles and between her legs.

            'What have they done?' he thought in anguish.

            With the guard's knife, he sliced through her bonds, releasing her arms and legs.  He wrapped his cloak tightly around her.  She stirred as he examined the dark bruises on her face and shoulders.

            "Shimalya?"

            She forced her eyes open.

            "Legolas?  I thought you were dead."

            He took her into his arms, holding her gently as she winced in pain.

            "I'm sorry. I failed you," he whispered.

            "You haven't," she told him.  "You're here now."  she pulled away and looked into his eyes.  "You did not fail me."  She touched the gash on his forehead and the blood that had dried on his face and neck.  "You could never fail me, so don't ever think it."

            Legolas kissed her forehead and held her again. 

            "We must get out of here," he said when he released her.  "Can you stand?"

            "I don't know."

            He held her arms as she attempted to stand, but her legs would not support her.

            "It will take a few minutes," she told him when he helped her back to the bed.  "Already, feeling is coming back.  Find my clothes."

            Legolas searched the room, and finding none, dragged the dead guard into the room and relieved him of his clothing.

            Carefully he helped her dress, painfully aware of each intake of breath, each silent wince.  All the while, his eyes took in the injuries on her breasts, stomach, and thighs.

            "I need weapons," she told him as he helped her off the bed.   "A sword, at least.  And a short blade if we can find it."

            "Shimalya, you can barely stand.  How will you hold a sword?"

            "I don't care.  I'm finding Karak.  I'm going to kill him."

            "No," he told her, holding her shoulders.  "I'm taking you out of here.  Do you know of the passage in the kitchens?"

            "Yes, but I am not leaving."  

            "I will return for Karak, but you will stay in the camp."

            "Legolas, please."  Her desperate eyes searched his.  He could not bring himself to speak.  His own eyes strayed toward the bed, where her blood still covered the sheets.  He could not even bring himself to think on what that man had done to her.

            "I only want you safe," he told her, taking her again into his arms.  "Do you hear me, Shimalya?"  He cupped her face with his hand and looked into her eyes.  "I want you safe, and you are not while you are still in this place."

            "All right," she said finally.  "I will go back to the camp.  But his guards are everywhere.  I still need a weapon, at least, until we are outside."

            Legolas consented and slipped quietly from the room, returning a few minutes later with a sword and a short blade.  Thus armed, they both slipped out and began their escape.


	7. Chapter 7

            Escaping from the Fortress took much longer than finding Shimalya had.  They could not hide in shadows so well, as they had only one cloak.  An alarm was shouted, and they had to bloody their swords many times as Shimalya led him toward the kitchen.  Four men assaulted them as they rounded a corner, and Legolas received a cut across his shoulder, but it was neither deep nor serious.  Shimalya buried her sword in the man's stomach, then spun, slicing his throat with her short blade.  The elf pivoted, finding his mark in another man's chest.  As the man fell, an arrow struck him.  Legolas glanced it.  An elven arrow.  His arrow.

            He motioned for Shimalya to duck into a doorway, then, fully covered by his cloak, he waited with his back against the wall near the corner so Durog would not see him too quickly as he rounded after him.  Footsteps hurried toward them.  Two men appeared.  Neither was the red-haired man.  They got no further than Shimalya's doorway before she killed them both and stepped quietly back into her hiding space.  At last, Durog came.  He rounded the corner with the bowstring taut, an arrow in place.  He stood directly before Legolas, creeping through the bodies of his fallen men, inching toward Shimalya.  Legolas stepped out from behind and killed him quickly.  He dropped his sword and relinquished his own weapons.

            Sliding his blade into its sheath and gathering his quiver, he motioned to Shimalya to lead on.  Without a word spoken, they ran through the corridor and, pushing through a large door, found themselves inside the kitchen.

            It was empty.  Apparently, the servant had escaped with Theus.  Shimalya slipped into a large pantry and motioned toward the floor.  A large flat stone had been pulled up and lain aside, revealing a tunnel.  Legolas could hear movement within.  The Men of Gondor were near.

            Presently, Gimli appeared, and Legolas reached down to hoist him up.  Then, one by one, the rest of the men clambered out of the hole and stood about the kitchen, their weapons drawn.

            "You started without us, I see," Gimli commented, eyeing Shimalya's sword and the cut across Legolas' shoulder.

            "Perhaps you should have come sooner," Legolas told him with a smile.  He turned back to Shimalya.

            "There is a hill near where you were taken."

            "I know it."

            "Good.  You will find your people there.  Go to them.  We will return for you when we are finished."

            "Legolas-"

            "You promised me you would go back to the camp.  Now go."

            "Thank you."

            Legolas nodded and kissed her fingers before watching her disappear into the blackness below.  When she was out of sight, he turned to the men.  There were a few more than forty standing before him, ready to fight.

            "There may still be innocent people in the Fortress.  Watch for them.  All Karak's men are armed, but if you find Karak himself, do not kill him.  I will deal with him."  The elf's eyes blazed, and Gimli wondered woefully what the man had done to incur such rage in his friend. 

            The men broke up into groups and began freeing the Fortress from its captors. 

            Shimalya made her way up the hill, using the trees and tall grass as leverage so she would not fall back down.  She could neither see nor hear anything ahead, but froze when she heard a twig snap to her left.

            "Who's there?" a man's voice demanded.

            "Shimalya," she answered, holding her sword away from her body.  "Legolas sent me back to the camp."

            One of the soldiers of Gondor stepped from behind a tree and moved closer.  She could see the curve of his bow in his hand and knew the arrow was aimed at her.  She stood still, allowing him to come closer and verify who she was.  When he saw her, he lowered the weapon and motioned for her to follow.  She did so and soon came to a small clearing where several people were sitting together.  As she neared, she recognized Theus, his wife Sola, and Nalaya.

            "Shimalya!" Nalaya cried, and embraced her warmly.

            Legolas and his men swept into the Meeting Hall, following the remainder of Karak's men.  Already, the Men of Gondor had taken the room, and Karak's followers, on finding themselves surrounded, laid down their weapons and surrendered.  Legolas walked through the room, examining each of the men as he went, looking for Karak.  He was not present.

            "Where is Karak?" he asked.

            No one answered him.

            "Where is he?" he cried aloud, his voice filling the room.

            The men remained still.

            "I'm right here."  

            Legolas spun, his arrow notched and aimed.  Karak strode through the room from behind the pillars, unworried for his life.  He stopped a few feet short from the elf and crossed his arms.

            "You are the elf that followed dear Shimalya, are you not?" he said, not really asking a question.  "I was curious when you first came in here why you would follow her.  After all, it was you who had her bound, wasn't it?  You are most obviously the leader of these invaders."  He paused, as if waiting for an answer, then continued.  "But then I saw the way she looked at you, and I knew.  I did.  It takes quite a man, or elf, to turn a woman's head like that.  It's not as if she needs to be protected.  Not her."  He smiled.  "And then I realized, she wanted to be tied up.  She enjoyed it.  At least, she enjoyed when I did it."  He raised an eyebrow.  Legolas kept his arrow aimed.  Lowering his voice so only the elf could hear, he said, "You never-?  No, I suppose she's not that kind of girl.  And she didn't _feel_ like you had."

            Legolas released the arrow and it shot straight into Karak's throat.  He staggered as blood pored from his wound, then his body fell to the ground.  The elf did not move, but merely watched, his lips pursed.

            Turning, he told the soldiers to escort Karak's men to the cells in the bottom level and to burn Karak's body.  he began striding away.  

            "Master Elf, do you want your arrow?" 

            "Leave it," he said, without looking back.  "That one, I do not wish back."  He left the room.

            "Shimalya," Nalaya said, leaning her head against her friend's bosom.  "What happened when you were taken?  We heard such screams-."

            "Nothing," Shimalya told her, kissing the top of her head.  "Nothing happened.  Go to sleep, my lady."

            The sky was just beginning to blush with the new morning, though the sun had not yet peeked over the horizon when their work was finished and they made their way back to their camp.  Legolas found his horse where he had left him, and rode back, reaching the site a few minutes after the soldiers.  He told Theus that Torrech was his again, then sought out Shimalya.

            He found her leaning against a tree with Nalaya sleeping against her breast.  She turned her head at his approach.

            "Did I wake you?" he asked.

            "No.  I was not sleeping.  It is done?"

            He nodded.  A sad smile crossed her lips.

            "Thank you, Legolas," she said,  "for everything."

            He took her hand and kissed her fingertips.

            "Rest now," he told her.  "Rest brings healing."  But as he moved away, he noticed she laid her head once more against the tree, but her eyes remained wide open.

            They remained for two days, helping to clear out the Fortress and round up men who had escaped into the forest.  Legolas spoke often to Theus, pledging his father's help if ever they were again invaded, and advising on improvements on the fortifications.

            "I have heard all of this before," Theus said.  "Donuval wished it to be done years ago.  I'm sorry I did not listen then.  This could have been prevented."  He stirred as if out of a dream.  "We shall miss Shimalya here."

            "Miss her?  I understood she would stay."

            "Stay?  My daughter may not understand what was happening to her, but my wife and I are well aware.  Shimalya does not wish to stay here any longer.  I see it as she walks about.  There is a fear in her eyes I never saw there before.  No, she will not stay."  He looked to the elf.  "I don't know that she will go with you.  I have heard why she was sent to Minas Tirith, and how these men were sent here, but she does not wish to stay here."

            "Has she spoken to you?"

            "Of her task, yes.  But not of what she has gone through.  Nor to my wife.  It is not her way.  Have you not noticed?"

            Legolas looked across the garden to where Shimalya spoke to several servants.

            "Have you seen her eat or sleep since you were released?"

            "No."

            "Nor have I."

            "There is a rumor that King Elessor and his wife are healers.  Do you suppose they can help her?"

            "I do not know.  But if she will come back with me, I know they will try."

            The party left the next morning, with Shimalya riding amongst them, unbound.  Legolas watched her carefully over the course of the journey and knew she was not sleeping and that she ate very little.  He spoke to her of his worry, and she ate a few bites, but every night, he noticed her lying awake very near to the fire, her hand always near her blade.

            It hurt him to see the change in her.  She was quiet, despondent, and seemed to shy away from contact.  The young woman pulled away even from his touch.  He sensed her breathing quicken, as if she wished to flee.

            Even Gimli noticed as her health deteriorated.  She was becoming weaker, unable to stay long in the saddle.  He rode behind her, telling her that he was tired of riding behind the elf, but in truth, he feared she would fall to the ground without his support.  

            All were happy to again see the Citadel of Minas Tirith again, but none so much as the elf and the dwarf.  

            "You brought her back with you," Aragorn observed.  "She spoke the truth.  Is she injured?" he asked, as he and Gimli helped Shimalya from her horse.  Legolas lifted her from into his arms.

            "I must out her to bed," he told his friend, then spoke in Elvish.  "She was grievously injured.  I must speak with you and Arwen."  Aragorn nodded and Legolas disappeared inside. 

            Some time later, Legolas removed himself from Shimalya's room and found Aragorn, Arwen, and Gimli waiting.

            "Gimli, my friend," he said.  "I fear that what I have to say must be for their ears only."

            Gimli looked at the faces of the taller folk.

            "Is she all right?" he asked.

            "When I know, I will tell you.  I swear it."  Gimli nodded, trusting to the elf's oath, and headed away from them.  Aragorn led them to the library, and after the door was shut, Legolas spoke in Elvish.  He explained all that had happened in Torrech, but when he told them of Shimalya, he faltered.  There was no word in Elvish for what had happened to her, but Arwen and Aragorn understood.  The lady gasped and the king closed his eyes.

            "Such men are the bane of us all," he pronounced.  "Is he dead?"

            "Yes." 

            Aragorn looked up at the quick answer and knew Legolas had killed him himself.

            "I am worried for her," Legolas continued, his voice low.  "She does not sleep.  Even now, when she is so weak, she will not close her eyes.  And she has had no more than a bite of food in nearly ten days."

            "I will look after her, Legolas," Arwen said at last.  "But whether I can help her, I do not know."

            Arwen knocked gently on Shimalya's door.  It had been two days since she had spoken to Legolas, and Shimalya had yet to leave her room.  The queen had come to look in on her before, but Shimalya had asked to be allowed to rest through the door, and Arwen had allowed it.  But now, she was too worried to be turned away.  

            "Shimalya?" she called softly through the thick wood.  When no answer came, she pushed the door open a bit and called her name again.  the candles in the room were burning brightly, but still no answer.  She pushed the door open the rest of the way and entered.  The bed was still made and unused.  Her eyes surveyed the room.  Finding nothing, she turned to leave, but her eyes caught sight of a figure in the far dark corner.

            "Shimalya," she said, stepping closer.  "Legolas was worried for you.  He asked me to check on you."  The young woman was sitting in the corner, her knees drawn to her chest with both arms wrapped around, as if protecting herself.  "Are you all right?" she asked, kneeling beside her.

            She did not answer, in fact, did not seem to hear.  Arwen reached out and touched her cheek, then tipped her chin so she could see her face.  Her skin was pale, her face, drawn.  The areas under her eyes were heavy and dark.

            "When is the last time you slept?" she asked gently.

            Shimalya's eyes focused on her.

            "I can't.  I can't even close my eyes."  She was shaking now.

            Arwen took her hand.  her fingertips grazed the bandage on her wrist.  She could not imagine what this woman had experienced, but the sorrow in Legolas' eyes and the state of the woman now told her it was true. 

            "You must try.  You will be ill if you do not."  She wrapped an arm around Shimalya's shoulders and pulled her toward her, attempting to comfort her.  "I know what has happened to you, but it is over now.  You must rest and take care of yourself.

            "I see him, even in my sleep."  She was crying, pleading as Arwen led her to the bed.  

            "He is dead, child.  He cannot hurt you anymore."  Arwen laid her down and sat beside her.  "I know this is very hard for you, but you must try."

            "Will you stay here with me?  Until I fall sleep."

            "Yes.  Now close your eyes."  Arwen sang to her softly, the songs of her people, letting the tones of her Elvish language permeate the brain of the young woman and lull her to sleep.  At last, her eyes closed and her breathing evened.

            "Quel esta," she said and retired to her own room.

            Legolas was roaming the halls of the castle, too restless to sleep, when the screams reached him.  He recognized them instantly as the same screams he had heard in Torrech.  Shimalya's screams.

            He raced down the corridor and up the winding staircase to the floor, which housed the guest quarters.  The volume of the screams increased here.  They were painful and scared.  Several guest were looking out their doors, including a bleary-eyed Gimli.

            "What is it, Elf?  Are we under attack?"

            Without answering, Legolas pushed open Shimalya's door and rushed in.  Her arms were thrashing about, as if trying to put off an attack.  He crossed the room to her side.  Remembering all too well her speed with a knife, he pushed her arms against her chest.

            "Don't touch me!  Don't touch me!" she screamed at him.

            "Shimalya!  It's me, Legolas!  Open your eyes!"

            She had stopped thrashing about, and now only cried.

            "Please, don't do this.  Please don't," she pleaded.

            Arwen pushed past him and released her, taking Shimalya into her arms.

            "Legolas, get out!"

            He backed helplessly away from the bed, his eyes never wavering as Arwen comforted Shimalya.  She was whimpering as the Queen caressed her face and spoke soothingly to her.  turning back to him, she told him again to leave the room.

            Aragorn was in the hallway with Gimli.  Both were disheveled, having been awoken from sleep.  And both, he noticed, were armed.  Legolas leaned dejectedly against the wall.

            "What is going on in there?" The dwarf asked gruffly.

            "She was dreaming," Legolas told him.

            "Dreaming?  I thought she was being murdered."

            Aragorn looked questioningly at Legolas.

            "He does not know?" he asked in Elvish.

            "No," was the reply.  "None of the men know what happened.  Only you, Arwen, and myself."

            "I know you're talking about me," Gimli huffed.  "It's not right to talk about an armed dwarf when he's been without sleep."

            "No, my friend," Aragorn assured him.  "We were talking about Shimalya."  He glanced at the door through which his wife had disappeared.  "Why don't you go back to bed, Gimli.  I think the excitement has died down."   

            "Go to bed, you say?" Gimli grumbled as he stalked back to his room.  "Ha!  As if a dwarf could with all the screaming.  And he calls it excitement-"  The door shut behind, closing out his voice.

            "Come, Legolas.  Let's go to my library."  He put his hand on the elf's shoulder and steered him down the hallway.  Once inside the confines of the library, Legolas went to the window while Aragorn poured a drink for both of them.  the former ranger glanced up at his friend and saw his reflection in the glass.  He looked tormented.

            Aragorn offered him the wine, which he took without looking.

            "Legolas, you look haunted."

            "I feel haunted," he answered, not turning.  "I noticed too late that she was gone.  I could not save her from this."

            "It's not your fault."

            "I was helpless.  I am helpless."  He turned.  His eyes were wide, full of emotion.  "I have never felt so, that I could do nothing.  When I tried, I only frightened her worse."

            "She did not know it was you."

            Both men turned toward the door.  Arwen had come to find them.  She crossed the room to where they stood.  "She would have reacted the same were it Aragorn or Gimli or any other man who touched her at that moment.  Do not be distressed by this."  She touched his face as if he were a child.  "You cannot imagine what it is like for her.  She was a strong, independent woman, reduced to a common thing.  She has much healing to do.  Do not invite insecurity into your heart.   It does neither of you good.  You must be strong for both of you."

            "How is she now?"

            "She is sleeping peacefully.  After that, we shall see."

            "Hannon le, Arwen," Legolas breathed, sinking to the floor.  One hand, elbow propped on his knee, held his head.  The other, raised the glass to his lips.

            Arwen took her husband's hand and looked sadly down at the young elf on the floor.  He was still a child in many ways, though his years betrayed that, innocent to the ways of the world outside of Mirkwood.  Trained by his father, ruler of the Silvan Elves, to think and fight, he was quite serious and levelheaded when times demanded it, but unable to deal with helplessness.  Indeed, Arwen was not sure he had ever really experienced it before.  This fear, this helplessness was causing great disquiet in his heart.  Sighing, she kissed Aragorn and bade the two of them goodnight before retiring to her room.


	8. Chapter 8

            It was several days before Legolas saw Shimalya again.  Arwen spent much time with her, allowing only female servants into the chambers.  As her body and mind became weaker and weaker, Arwen had explained, Shimalya had begun to associate all men with her experience.  In her present state, she could not separate the other men from Karak.

            Legolas began to despair, fearing she would remember only the cruelness spoken to her when he had believed her an assassin.  Aragorn and Gimli did what they could to occupy his mind and cheer him, but to no avail.  He had resigned himself that he had lost her.

            Then, while walking to his own chambers late one evening, something happened which gave the elf hope.  He heard a door open slightly as he passed by, and turning slowly, saw two gray eyes peeking out at him.  There seemed for a moment to be recognition in them, not of a man, but of Legolas himself.  He said nothing, fearing she would slam the door at the sound of his voice.  Instead, he smiled at her, and willed his feet to carry him back to his own room.  It wasn't until he reached his own chamber that he heard her door close softly.

            He hesitated before entering, wondering if he had only imagined her there.  It could indeed have been a stirring of his mind in what he wished, but if that were so, he reminded himself, she would have called his name and come to him.

            In the days that followed, he heard her door open many times.  Always, he stopped and turned to see her, but he never spoke.  Once, he thought he heard her breathe his name, though he believed that had been his own longing to hear it on her lips.

            "I saw him again tonight, as he walked past."  The words had come out of nowhere, a confession when none was needed.  

            Arwen stood by Shimalya at the window.

            "Did he say anything?"

            "No."  Arwen realized she was staring at her own reflection in the glass as she spoke.  "He never says anything when I see him.  Is he ashamed?"  Her gray eyes turned on the elf, pleading for an answer.

            "No, of course not.  He wants only for you to be well."

            "I tried to call out to him.  I wanted to, but it stuck in my throat.  It scared me."

            "It is all right to be scared.  He understands that.  Do not let it worry you."

            "I love him, my Lady.  I love him, but I don't know if I can be with him without feeling-"

            "Give it time.  Do not try to rush anything."  She touched Shimalya's cheek.  "You've made much progress.  The rest will come."  

            Evening had fallen.  Snow fell peacefully over the city, dancing in the sky on the light winds of an early winter.  Legolas stood on the balcony where he had first kissed Shimalya, staring out at the lights in the town below.  He couldn't help but wonder to himself if he could carry on like this.  He had not spoken a word to Shimalya for nearly a month, and while he did not know if this was helping her, he was suffering.  How many times he knew she had watched him in the corridors when all others were asleep or glanced her in the window as he returned from hunting.  Each and every time, his heart was wrenched; for he knew she would disappear at his first word to her.

            In his hand, he clutched the message from his father, requesting an audience in two weeks time.  Soon, he would leave for Mirkwood, and were it not for his friendship with Aragorn, he would consider never returning.  In enough time, her life would pass, regardless of whether or not he were here with her.  She would grow old and her body would give out.  Where would he be?

            Yearning for the shell of a woman he had once known.  Perhaps she would never again speak words to him.  What sort of existence was that for an immortal, to spend a hundred or a thousand years mourning for a woman whom few in her own race would ever remember?

            Legolas closed his eyes.  As much as he tried to convince himself his feelings were futile, he loved her nonetheless.  None of this reasoning helped him to feel better.  He would never leave her, and even if he could, he would never forget her.  There were simply too many 'what ifs' to allow him to consider otherwise.  He would see to his father and hasten back.

            The sound of footsteps reached his ears.  Light, slippered footsteps of a woman.  They were too light to be those of a servant, but they were not Arwen's.  He knew her steps, as she had often come to speak to him in his quiet evening thoughts.  

            They were Shimalya's footsteps.

            He did not turn to meet her gaze.  She would find him soon enough and turn away to return to her room.  He could not bear to see her turn away from him.  He simply waited to hear the retreat of her footsteps.

            "Legolas?"  Her voice was soft, timid.

            Hearing her voice, he though he had fallen asleep and was dreaming.  Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned, preparing himself to see the fear in her face as she attempted to escape.

            Instead, she threw herself against his chest, seeking comfort in his embrace.  He wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders, delighting in the warmth of her body against his own.  The scent of her hair demanded the reality of the moment to his mind, and he allowed her hair to splay through his fingers as he held her.  

            He could conjure no words for her, but relayed all he felt for her through his arms.  At last, she moved, not moving away, but adjusting her position, and as he looked down into her eyes, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his mouth, softly. He returned the kiss more passionately, with all the desire he had felt for her since their first meeting and al the desperation since their separation.

            "I love you," he breathed, his lips grazing the soft skin of her neck.  He pressed his lips to the warmth of her flesh, gently kisses across her throat and down her jaw.

            "I wanted to come to you," she sighed, the warmth of his caress heating her.

            "I waited.  I'll always wait for you."  His hand slid down to her bodice, coming to rest on the swell of her breast.  He kissed her more deeply, massaging her with the palm of his hand.  Realizing what he was doing, Legolas pulled away from her, untrusting of himself what he wished.  He breathed heavily, silently cursing the heat of his thighs, hands, and lips.

            "I would never hurt you," he told her, not allowing himself to take her again into his arms.  "I could never forgive myself if I did."

            "I know."

            He touched her cheek gently with his finger.

            "I could never hurt you," he repeated more softly.  "I will always wait for you."  It took great willpower for him to walk away, knowing all the while she was watching his retreating form.  But he knew he had to keep going. His desire was too great to allow him to stay near her.  In the end, it would only hurt her more.  She had learned harsh, dispassionate sex.  Abused against her will, her maidenhead had been stolen from her.  How long before she could accept the warmth and passion of mutual desire? 

            His head was spinning as he returned to his room and threw himself on his bed fully clothed.  His body continued to yearn for her touch.  His mind recalled each instance of her smile, each scant trace of her scent, each lingering touch since their first meeting.  He thought of her grace with a sword, the seriousness stamped on her face as she fought.  And finally, creeping into the corner of his mind, the instant in which he found her again in the Fortress of Torrech, though his mind conveniently misplaced the horrors involved.  Again, he saw the curves of her body beneath the thin blanket, but it was her own hand, which laid it aside, revealing the swell of her breasts, the soft down of her stomach, and the dark floss between her legs.  She was smiling as she reached up and pulled him down to her to meet her upturned mouth, her teeth separated so his tongue could caress hers.

            Legolas rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.  It would be a long night.

            He saw her many times after that night, as Shimalya journeyed out form her room for longer and longer periods of time.  Always, she had other women with her, ready for any moment of fear that crept into her mind.

            Legolas was upset by their presence and grateful for it all at once.  It meant he could not be alone with her, but also that he would have no temptation as he had had on the balcony.  

            Soon, he was readying for his journey back to Mirkwood, to stand before his father.  Gimli wished to accompany him, but Legolas wanted to go alone.  He had no idea what the king wanted, and wished to complete the journey as swiftly as he could.  Before swinging himself onto the back of his horse, he kissed Shimalya's hand, promising to return before the month was out.

            Legolas entered the forest he had long known as Mirkwood, again Greenwood the Great, just a few days after leaving Minas Tirith.  He had traveled quickly and with little sleep, and now wished only to lie in his bed, but knew his father was waiting for him.

            He dismounted and led the horse across the familiar bridge, which led to his father's cave-palace.  The water below was swift and strong, crowned with great beeches whose roots fed directly into the water.  Leaving his horse, he entered the cavern mouth, its passages lit by the red flame of torches.  The few guards he passed bowed their heads, but Legolas did not hesitate as he made his way through the winding paths that any stranger would become hopelessly lost in.  At last, he came to the Great Hall with its white pillars of stone.  Before him, on his carved wood throne sat the Elvenking Thranduil, Legolas' father.

            "Legolas, my son, you have finally come home."

            The young elf bowed on bended knee.

            "You sent for me, father?"

            "Oh stand up, stand up."  The Elvenking left his throne and came to his son, pulling him up.  "It's been some time since I saw you last, Legolas.  Not since I sent you to Rivendell for the counsel."  He looked into his youngest son's eyes and saw in them a great change from the boy he had sent to explain Smeagol's disappearance.  "My, you have grown up, haven't you?  You can't imagine my surprise when Galion told me you were chosen to accompany the hobbit to Mordor."  He embraced his son.  "I would never have forgiven Elrond if anything had happened to you."

            "Father, you coddle him too much," sneered Cranduil, the eldest of Thranduil's sons.

            Ignoring Cranduil's comment, Thranduil led Legolas out of the Great Hall and to his library, wishing his son to tell everything that had befallen him since last they had met.

            Arwen stood in Shimalya's chambers as an old healer examined the girl.  Legolas had been gone only a few days, when Shimalya cried to her that something was amiss, that she needed a healer.  Arwen had come quickly, fearing in her heart what she knew in her mind.  

            Shimalya had missed her cycle.

            "Mistress, you are with child," the old healer told her.

            "Child?"  She touched her stomach lightly, then pulled her hand away as if she were burned.  "It's not possible.  It can't be."

            'A child,' thought Arwen sadly.  It was as she had feared, and just as the young woman was beginning to heal.  The violence against Shimalya could have been hidden, but a child?  No man would understand.  The only one that could would not be allowed to wed her.  Not the son of a king.  Thranduil was too proud to ever allow such a thing.

            "Leave me."  Shimalya's voice was a shaky whisper as she made her request.  The old healer looked at Arwen.  The queen nodded imperceptibly, and the woman withdrew.  

            "Shimalya," Arwen said, laying her hand on the young woman's shoulder.  "Do not fear this.  All things shall come to pass as they should."

            "I fear nothing, Queen Arwen.  After all that has happened, I have nothing left _to_ fear."

            Arwen smiled, hiding her own disconcert, and withdrew from the room.  


	9. Chapter 9

            "Mistress!  Mistress, come quickly!" 

            Roused by her handmaiden's desperate cries, Arwen rose quickly from the bed, wrapping herself in a thick robe.

            "What is it, Nora?"

            "It is Lady Shimalya.  She's missing.  Her bed has not been slept in!" 

            "Have you checked everywhere?"  Alarm grew within her.  "The gardens?  The stables?"

            "Her cloak is in her room, and she is nowhere within the walls of the city.  I have already checked.  But a sentry- he said there was a pair of footprints in the snow when the sun rose.  Small, like a woman's.  Bare.  He saw no one during the night, but someone left.  Mistress-"

            "Summon my husband, Nora."

            "I already have.  He's out even now, searching for her."

            Legolas sat across from his father in the library where scrolls and scrolls of history sat on stone shelves cut out of the walls of the cave.  Thranduil had remained silent during the telling of his tales, which carried them long into the night and into morning, which Legolas could sense, was just beginning.  He had told everything, leaving out only Shimalya's molestation within the Fortress of Torrech. 

            "You speak very well of this woman, Shimalya," Thranduil said after a long silence.  "I sense from your words you have strong feelings for her."

            "I do, Father.  I care very much for her."

            "You love her, you mean.  Do not mince words with me, Son.  Speak plainly."

            "I love her, Father.  I wish to wed her, if she will consent."  When his father sighed heavily, Legolas pushed through.  "In all my years, I have met none like her.  And I know I never will again."

            "She's a mortal, Legolas.  You are my son.  You cannot wed her."

            "I have four older brothers for you to pass your crown to."  He was desperate.  Though he was honored as a warrior throughout Middle Earth, only his father made him feel like a mere child.  "Why does it matter who I wed?"

            "Legolas, my son."  Thranduil gazed sadly at his son.  "It is not your blood that prevents it, but my love for you.  Years pass more swiftly for us than they do for mortals.  Your life with her will be over before you know it.  But for her, it will be a lifetime, and in that lifetime, she will age.  Her body will weaken, perhaps even her mind.  And all the while, she will never forgive you that you remain young and unchanged.  Her heart, however great it is, will come to loathe the sight of you, the reminder of what she once was and will never be again.  And one day, she will die, as is the fate of her kind, and part of you will pass with her.  I'm sorry.  I cannot willingly allow you to cause yourself the pain this union will bring.

            "Now, go son.  Your travel was very long, and I have kept you up longer than I should have.  Go and rest.  I will see you again when you have slept."

            Aragorn rode swiftly, following the tracks left behind in the early hours of morning.  Shimalya's tracks were clear, left untouched in the night as they were made after the snow had subsided.  Though the chill air was biting, it warmed as the sun rose.  He pushed his mount harder, desperate to find the young woman before her tracks were lost in the melting snow. 

            Suddenly, he spotted her, stumbling along just inside the forest in nothing but her shift.  Her arms were wrapped convulsively around her body, which was shivering noticeably as he rode up on her.  

            "Shimalya."

            She did not answer.  Did not even turn her head toward him.  He could see the puffs of warm air about her mouth as she spoke to herself.

            "I will not bring him back.  I cannot allow him to come into this world again.  Not while I have breath in my body."  She stumbled, her arms too weak to catch herself, and       fell to the ground. 

            Aragorn jumped from his mount, quickly whipping his cloak from his shoulders and wrapping it around the lady.  Her skin was gray.  Her hands, frozen.  It was only at his touch that her eyes focused on him.

            "Let me die, your majesty.   I beg you, let me die."

            "That, I cannot do, Shimalya.  Legolas would never forgive me if I allowed it."  She whimpered as he lifted her from the ground and sat her on his horse.  Then, climbing up behind her, he pushed his mount hard, riding for the city.

            "Father, do you truly believe I have not thought hard on this?"  Legolas had roused himself only an hour before, and had continued his conversation with his father at the first chance he had found.  A meal.

            "If you believe you will marry her, then you have not."

            "Do you not remember what you felt when you first fell in love?"

            "Indeed, I do.  But the match was much more suitable, Legolas.  Do not compare this woman to your mother.  It is not your love, which troubles me, but the short span you will have to share it.  Unless this Shimalya suddenly wakes up one morning and finds herself an immortal, then you will not be allowed to wed her.  Now please, can we talk of something other than this?  You have been home for only a day, and I do not wish this to be the only thing we discuss."

            Angered, Legolas rose from the table, but was stayed for a moment when Cranduil gripped his arm.

            "Listen to him, Legolas. She may love you today for who you are, but she will despise you for the very same tomorrow.  It is better to love her as she is now and never see again, than to invite that contempt into her heart."

            Legolas pulled his arm roughly from his brother's grip and stalked from the room.

            Arwen quietly left Shimalya's bedside and found her husband waiting for her in the hallway.  He sat on the floor, his back to the wall, but quickly found his feet when he saw her.

            "How is she?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice.

            "I have done what I can," she answered, "But even my skills cannot return life where it is not desired.  Shimalya does not wish to live, and I do not believe she shall."

            "I don't understand," he told her.  His eyes were tired as he looked on his wife.  She had been by the lady's bed all day and night.  "Why does she not wish to live?  What has happened?"

            Arwen took Aragorn's hand.

            "What I will tell you, Legolas can never know."  Aragorn stared at her, unsure whether this was a promise he could make.  "It is her wish, my love.  Whether she lives or no, he shall not know."  When he nodded, she continued.  "Last night, Shimalya learned she was with child.  Not by our friend," she said when his face changed, "but by he who sought to possess what he had no right to.  Even now, she feels it is an evil growing inside her, and she is willing to destroy herself in order to stop it."

            "You're sure of this?"

            "I suspected even before we learned the truth.  Shimalya carries Karak's child."

            Legolas sat by his father's side in the midst of the forest during negotiations with Celeborn concerning their kingdoms.  Celeborn noticed the young man was distant throughout, quite changed from the elf he had seen only two years before.  When he voiced his concern to Thranduil in private, the king only answered that he was love-stricken, and that it would soon pass.  Galadriel only did not dismiss the young elf's demeanor so quickly.  She watched him carefully in the days that followed, but said nothing until the business of the woods had been decided.

            Arwen stayed always by Shimalya's side, watching as her body weakened and her breathing labored.  Her face was hot to the touch, and the queen did all she could to make the young woman comfortable.  Fluid had begun to fill her lungs, and deep coughs often erupted from the otherwise silent figure on the bed, for she no longer had the strength to speak.  In a few days, she lapses into a deep sleep, from which, Arwen feared, she would never awaken.

            Negotiations ceased.  Legolas readied to return to Mirkwood with his father, though there was no joy in it.  He had been forbidden to speak again of his desire to wed Shimalya, and it weighed heavily on his mind.  Galadriel called to him as Thranduil made his goodbyes to Celeborn, and Legolas was all too happy to escape his father for a few moments.

            "Legolas Greenleaf, you are unhappy here."

            "I am, My Lady."

            She looked deeply into his eyes, and he knew she was reading his thoughts as his mind filled with the image of Shimalya.  But her eyes, he noticed, were sad.

            "Go back to Gondor!" she said suddenly.  Though her voice was hushed, Legolas noticed his father turn at the urgency of it.  "Do not delay!"

            "What is it, Galadriel?" Celeborn asked, turning toward her.

            "Legolas must return to Gondor.  He must leave this moment."

            Without waiting for leave from his father, Legolas leapt onto the back of his horse and rode quickly from the forest.

            "Love?" Celeborn said, taking Galadriel's hand.  "What is it?"

            "He is already too late."

            At last, Shimalya's chest no longer rose and fell with breath.  Arwen, wearied after several days at her side, stood and called to her handmaidens to wash her and ready her for burial.  As soon as the order was given, she found Aragorn before her, his arms enveloping her, giving her support as she wept from both grief and exhaustion.  Yet, she knew in her heart, as Aragorn led her back to heir own chambers, that the worst was yet to come.

            Arwen felt no grief so deeply, except at her own husband's passing many years later, as she did when Legolas returned to Minas Tirith a mere two days later.

            She had watched as Aragorn rode out to meet his Companion at the gate.  Watched as Legolas jumped back onto his horse and rode swiftly into the city.  Arwen followed him into the Hall where Shimalya's body was lying in wait for burial, lying as if she were sleeping and might soon wake.  On seeing her, Legolas could step no further into the room.  His eyes were wide with grief, but no tears fell.  He was beyond tears, beyond prostrations and lamentations.  His grief was beyond even breath, and it was only when his lungs burned that he drew air into them.  All this Arwen saw, yet no words came to her to comfort him.  What words would reach his ears when his Shimalya could no longer wrap her arms around him?  The one woman who could comfort his grief no longer held life in her bones.

            Slow, deliberate steps drew him nearer, and it was only when his fingers reached out to entwine themselves in her hair and to stroke her cold cheek, did Arwen hear the sobs.  And it was when he bent to press his lips against her forehead that she saw his tears slide down his cheek to his chin, before falling to the woman's still face.

            "Namar, Shimalya," he spoke softly, his voice shaking.  "Hiro lle hidh ab 'wanath, a'maelamin."  

            At this, Arwen could bear no more.  She withdrew, tears clinging to her own eyes as she sought comfort in her husband's arms, for now, she had none to share.

FIN


End file.
